On Trolls: Nights of the Gathrahan
On the 25th day, in the 3rd month of the civil year, to be read aloud for seven days, followed by a day of silence. A dedication to Aluthareis who saved our people from the madness of the Gathrahan. The history of our people , as you all know, began with the sundering of holy Maganwag from Halja. The trial of the gods above eventually yielded their fate, to be resung at the beginning of each capo. And us, the children of wolves, are their progeny We came first to this Drunjusland, which the folly of men has decreed as Dunlain, singing an ancient song from our frozen homeland. The land was unclaimed and ripe for our choosing, so our tribes laid claim to it. Through toil and strife, and mastering of anan, which misguided man and mer recall as “fey” (they forget so quickly who Ahrtabazus learned from!), we conquered the whole of this land, and created a paradise that the world had not seen since the fall of our homeland. Tunnels we burrowed into the earth, to hide us from the blinding sun for rest, and great towers we built upon mountains, to forever confirm our mastery. In time, a blight had risen from the land, and our leader in those days, Kunnan, set forth with our Driuganwag, to deal with the plague that Fugle had brought to test us. We were in horror at what we saw. A chorus of great insects with [spiral proboscis ] and [cicada-shaped bodies ]. They were blue with the color of the frozen world, Magtriu. Fumes they released that could make a Wag see things that were not, blessing of a foul foreign god who corrupts our most precious dreams. When we had finally crossed through our shattered Drunjusland to meet them, it was already forever altered. The creatures surrounded Kunnan and his Driuganwag, his most prized soldiers, and used their unworldly vapors to make us dream forever. It was only by the mercy of Warqina, and the blessing of Aluthareis that our third-eyes could remain open. Misfortunate for our enemies, to not know that only hoary Bokhuna can remove our greatest gift. Kunnan, having sight beyond the greatest of Wagkuni, opened all ten of his eyes until he could see what the compelled creatures, who did not carry the grace of freedom, truly lacked. When the mist had cleared, their third eyes had opened, and we then sang them into the Great Song, naming them Ndbahs, our chosen friends. But there was no rejoicing, for the land had become forever desolated, with which we… ... is indecipherable ...the fifth month of our civil calendar, we began our war with the alves. Our greatest of seers had forseen their coming, and we had prepared our greatest. Our [Thriceborn Warriors ] who had sacrificed themselves by becoming sealed in the empty shell of an Ndbahs, allowing their larva to take over their minds. More savage than even Wag, and with an carapace that could be reborn as our flesh is reborn, we believed we were ready. But when the time came, the might of of the Dir’anan proved to be too much for even our greatest. With mathemagics and golems inscribed with the names of eight earthbones, they could crush even our mightiest. With sorcery and magi-logistics, they could cut supply lines with a stroke of a pen. In time, even our great under-surface halls ... for our seers first and then left us leaderless. ...even Queen...murdered ... With the mother of Ndbahs, their Queen dead, the silence finally began. For the first time in the history of our people, the gates of the Gathrahan were thrown open. Mothers held their babes to their chest, letting their heartbeat keep them secure. Many of us sat chanting softly in the dark catacombs, waiting for the thrice-damned alves to come and finish us off. We lost thousands to the madness, and more to their cruel, calculated, genocide of the Dir’anan. This continued for seven days, until it seemed to all surviving that the rest of our people were gone, or had gone mad. ...own….slaughtered...numbered.... On the eighth day, hours after our cruel foe left us, the music began again. What was left of us had been saved by the immaculate song. What remained of our “Thriceborn” were used to put to rest as many of our deranged brethren as we could. And this was the miracle we were blessed with. On reaching the sanctum of the Ndbahs Queen, we realized that her song had returned. There were no signs of life, yet she was filled with the Great Song she had been part of for centuries. Every inch of her shell was blessed in this magic, and we gave thanks to Altuthareis, who had saved our people. And for this reason, we spend this week remembering the lost, who are scattered over the whole of the Starry Heart, and remember the mercy ... -Fragment Ends- Category:High Rock is Cool Category:Trolls Category:Sythirius